


The Woodfin

by august_songs



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/F, Female-Centric, Gen, High School AU, Rowing AU, gw is also a girl, its gonna get A Lot Gayer dw, please lmk who ya fave revolutionary ladies are, so i can include them, sports AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-27 19:47:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6297718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/august_songs/pseuds/august_songs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is it folks. The trashy girls rowing team au you have all been waiting for.<br/>Featuring: every revolutionary lady i could think of and then some, lots of spandex, ambiguously gay comments, and no winter weather because man, fuck ergs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before I begin, you may be asking: what is rowing? Or ergs? Or the catch or sweeping or sculling or the recovery or oarlocks?  
> Someone else has already explained this a lot better then I have, and they have an excellent glossary-dictionary thing here.   
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3784819/chapters/8419096  
> However, most of this is pretty self-explanatory, so please enjoy!!
> 
> This will be a Revolutionary Ladies-centric fic, so if you have any ladies you'd like me to include on the team (40-50 people, after all) please let me know in the comments!
> 
> Please please please leave a kudos or comment if you can! Thank you so much and enjoy the ride

You know, in retrospect, Eliza really should have expected to be out in a single.

First off, Angelica’s been on this goddamn club rowing program since her freshman year— it’s this big thing in her family, starting off rowing your freshman year. Of course, Eliza’s been out in a double before, flopped around in the kind of singles that couldn’t be flipped by a toddlers. And of course, now, Maggie’s just starting to get into it.

But this is the start of real rowing, of varsity rowing and of proper eights and fours and pairs and varsity rowing, dammit. And like most other things, Angelica has already set the standard. A year above Eliza— just a sophomore— and she’s stroking the open eight, the A boat. And Eliza has no doubt that if she wasn’t nearly 5’10, she’d be coxing. She just has that personality about her, brash and assertive, knows what she wants and will fight like hell to get it.

But for Eliza there’s this odd balance, where half the people at the boathouse are expecting her to stroke the light eight this year and the other half think she’ll languish on novice. It’s often like that, living with Angelica, with some thinking that Angelica’s talent (in calculus, the genius, or political science, she’s a sophomore, damn it, she’s signed up for SIX AP classes next year and she’s taking three in 10th) must be shared by her younger sister. Some— especially after they see Eliza, shorter and quieter and too considerate, honestly— think that there’s only so much talent that can go around in one family, that Eliza must be sort of dull and generically happy.

But that’s irrelevant, right now, because she’s sitting on the water for her third varsity practice, in a single because you don't put the chubby newbie in a $30,000 boat, and Washington is yelling at the girls in the eight.

(Eliza checks her port oar to correct her point and then unchecks it and rows it up a bit, ostentenibly to set herself up better for the pieces and offset the wind, but really so she can hear who’s fucking up.)

Washington is short, was a coxswain in college and maintains the slim build and the perpetually flushed face and, of course, the nitpicky commands shouted at TOP VOLUME. Four seat is finishing late, too slow at the catch evidently, and she’s fumbling with her foot stretchers yet again and adjusting her posture at the catch.

“Other boats!” Washington didn’t have a megaphone for the first few years of the program, evidently, but some idiot on Novice gave her one last year and she’s been abusing it ever since. “Woodfin, back it a little.” That’s Eliza, sculling the five-by-five minutes out in an open weight single. “Brewer, CHECK YOUR POINT!” The coxswain in the Brewer four was stolen from the novice men’s team (both of the Marias are sick, and there are two other, better fours on the water today) and the director of the Junior Men’s program has had it out for Washington for a while.

Charles Lee, the cox, is the type of person who tells his boat in a shaky voice that everything is okay and steers from one side of the river to another and back . He almost hit the eight once already rowing up, and is currently pointed directly towards shore as the wind blows him downriver.

He hears Washington, though— how can you not?— and has the girls in his boat pull it up even with the Sophie.

There’s two other fours out on the water, the Spirit of ’05 and the Judie, and they’re seat racing today. Right now, they’re pulled so close together that the riggers are interlacing, the three seats switching places, and Debbie tells a joke that makes all the girls crack up. Something about the swan. 

It’s a light day today, and besides the Marthas, who have taken out a double for shits and giggles, she’s the only sculling boat out here.

Eliza likes sculling more than she would like to admit, honestly. She’s been hovering between lightweight and open weight for a while: One-forty flat, one-thirty-nine-five on good days. She could make lightweight, but now, as the spring season is just beginning, she’s perfectly happy to just stay five pounds above weight. And singles are nice because they give you a weight range and take away the pressure of letting down your entire boat if you don’t make weight.

Luckily, the Woodfin has foot stretchers that actually work, and so Eliza doesn’t have to adjust her feet every ten seconds. She’s starting the pieces before everyone else, obviously, because she’s in a _single,_ and so Washington gestures her forward. 

“Alright, we’re going to leave maybe ten seconds between the boats, except for the fours, which we’ll start at the same time.” Washington gestures forward even more, and Eliza takes it up at a paddle, conscious of her form and her oars, still dragging on the water. “Woodfin, you got maybe five strokes left before you’re on. Two, one, on!”

Eliza leans backwards into each stroke, checking her stroke coach. 28 is too high for this piece, so she forces herself to glide slowly up the recovery, taking it down to a 26, 25… 24. _There it is_ , she tells herself like she’s Angelica, sitting in the bow of a double, _hold that 24, nice and steady._ The double has started to paddle up, and so she slows down the recovery and speeds up the drive: _keep that ratio nice and steady, long recovery, and_ push _off that slide._

_Take that pressure up, Lizzy, don’t let your hands get stuck at the finish, you could halve the speed of your recovery and keep the same stroke rate, don’t let that double gain an inch on you._

Angelica is in the eight now, of course, not talking to Eliza at all. She’s always done double duty, bow and stroke, and so of course in the eight she’s in 8 seat, leading the rest of the boat, face-to-face with the cox. She’s always liked bowing more, dreamed of coxswaining, but she’s 5’11” and solidly openweight. Peggy’s the only one of them who has a shot at coxing, and it would be uncomfortable for peggy too, unless she switched to men’s crew. Weight limit is 10 pounds higher there.

The double is gaining on her, so Eliza drags her thoughts away from Angelica and calls a power ten under her breath. It’s a bad habit of hers, wasting breath on talking to herself in the boat when she could be using that energy to move the boat. But she calls the ten anyways, pushing off, trying to keep the double from gaining on her any faster then it already is.

One, two, three four five. She’s at a 25½, she sees on the stroke coach, and shit, that’s bad. The fours have started now, they’re several strokes in and the other two fours have almost a boat length on Lee’s. Eliza knows it’s rude, but she lets her lips quirk up in a smile. _Eight, nine, ten._

No more fucking around, Liz, she tells herself. The piece is only four minutes long, and then she gets an entire minute to paddle. Push push push legs legs legs. Almost a minute into it, almost into the second quarter. _Let’s take a power ten into this next bit_ , she tells herself in Angelica’s voice, _let’s hold that double off_ — they’re a boat and a half back on her now, or close enough— _until halfway._

Time flies when she’s in the boat, and so the double is halfway up on her, with Martha Skelton calling for power strokes under her breath, at the two-minute mark. Eliza checks her point, lets the double go by with some port pressure, and powers up. _Let’s get those oars off the water, Liza. Let’s get ten strokes with those oars off the water in two, ready? One, two, and that’s one. Don’t lose that power. Two, even hands, smooth slide, three._

Three thirty. The fours are close, and Eliza starts her mini-sprint, which is surprisingly hard when you’re at a 24. It’s really just a power 15, back swinging hard and recovery unbearably slow.

Four minutes and she’s across the line and paddling it up. The fours pull in just behind her, keeping it nice and cool, and then the eight, and then Lee’s four. Jesus, that must be a bitch of a ride.

“How’s the single life?” Dolley isn’t here today, she’s got violin or something, but her boyfriend James is. James has been monopolizing the Kahout single for almost a year, but today he’s in a double with Thomas. He wastes no time singling out Eliza— probably because of Angelica.

He’s a decent guy, generally, and so Eliza whoops back and grins, paddling up even with the double and then weighing enough. They’re going to do probably one more piece in this direction before they turn around, but they still do have one more piece this way.

Washington brings the launch forward. “Woodfin. Eliza.” Eliza looks up from her waterbottle, Washington’s launch only a little ways away, and nods. “Your form looked a little shaky overall, but pretty good for your first time in this single. How was the rate on that one?”

Eliza takes another drink of water, pours a little on her hair, and says, “Good. Consistent.”

“Debbie, Abigail, how was the rate for you two?” And oh yeah, those two boats are seatracing today, so they’re probably actually going to spin here. Eliza’s suspicion is confirmed when Washington flicks her wrist and says “Alright, everyone but the fours can spin and take it up.” As Eliza checks her port oar, Debbie and Abigail steer their boats together. Washington floats over to Lee’s four, which has mediocre rowers and an almost unsalvageable set, and starts talking in a deceptively calm voice.

Eliza sighs and unchecks her port oar, leaning forward to row her boat across. It’s not a bad day, by any means, but it’s looking to be a long one.

And it is. They got on the water around 5 pm, and by the time that Eliza is pulling her boat into the dock, it’s 6:45 and nearly dark. The only good thing about late days on the water is that they eliminate circuit training. Rowers don’t generally have strong arms— and Eliza knows the irony of that, trust her, the number of people who have asked how strong Angelica’s biceps were after they found out she rowed was too high to count— but Eliza is especially… lacking in that area.

But anyways. She steps out of the boat, leans back in on one knee to get her port oar out of the oarlock and then screws it shut. _Quick-on-the-dock_ , Debbie is shouting to her girls, and Eliza knows it applies to her as well, so she puts her oars on the side of the ramp and grabs Peggy’s arm— novice gets out a half-hour earlier, and they’re always supposed to help with the varsity boats. “Peg, can you help me take my single to the upper boathouse?” It’s a nice single, because she’s varsity now, and so it goes under an actual roof.

Peggy nods, of course, and tightens her ponytail and grabs the bow of the boat, waits for Eliza to call her up to shoulders.

“In two, flip and up. One, two.” Eliza counts off the standard two beats and then lifts the stern of the boat, carefully avoiding the skeg on the back. That breaks off, that cracks, and the boat is dead.

Eliza knows where the Woodfin goes, bow in, and so she calls for Peggy toswing the boat up. They cross the trail— and fuck, all the paddleboarders are coming in, walking with their boards at such awkward angles that Eliza has to cringe. “Okay, Peg, weigh enough for just a second.” There’s a slight opening, and Eliza jolts forward through the mass of kayakers and paddle boarders to finally be in front of the boathouse. “Walk it up, let’s go to low heads.”

They slide the boat in on the third rack, a convenient place for a single, and Eliza taps Peggy gently on the shoulder. “Nice job, thanks so much. I think Smith would be okay with you going now.” Peggy walks out; she’s going to catch the bus back home, Eliza knows.

But Eliza walks over to the dock and then off to the side, to the grass. “Oy. Elizabeth!” That would be Abigail, who refers to almost every girl on the team save Debbie by their full names. “Just a team meeting and then we’re good to go!”

Washington has all the girls gathered in a circle around her, and Abigail moves over to make room for Elizabeth. There’s only about 25 girls here today, so they’re easily able to circle up. “Alright, girls. You all know we’re only just starting to try out lineups, so these are just some of my ideas. I’ll play around with a lot more boatings over the next couple weeks.”

Coach Washington is talking quietly now, as she generally does on land, but her voice carries easily. “Our first Two-K-Saturday—“ the girls groan and laugh, and Washington joins in “— is coming up. And in three weeks we have a scrimmage. So even though these boats aren’t anywhere near final, I need all of your effort every day. And just a reminder that this season, 4 days per week is the bare minimum you should be coming to practice.” The girls nod, Eliza included.

“And we’ll be choosing captains later on this week,” Washington says. “And now— Betsy. High or low pitch? Count us off”

Betsy grins, happy to have been chosen, and says “high” to a chorus of groans. Hands go into the center of the circle. “One. Two. Three.” Angelica makes a face.

Eliza laughs through the chipmunk-ey “team” that they all yell. An SUP-er gives the team a strange look. Eliza grins. She really does like rowing, she thinks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE LMK if you liked!

Angelica hates WHAP.

It’s January, for god’s sake, everyone’s only just back from spring break, and what does Knox assign? Fifteen analysis questions on a twenty-page reading. Due in a week. And because she’s got rowing until practically 7 pm, she doesn’t get home until _eight,_ so she has to do this goddamn reading on the bus to rowing.

Which is totally killing some of the only time she gets to spend with her friends at rowing when they’re not all suffering together.

And honestly, she could give a damn about the interactions of Rome and Greece,  but right now? When she’s-

She’s pulled out of her train of thought by the bus screeching up to the boathouse. They’ve got about fifteen minutes before practice starts, and so she can take her time walking up to the locker room.

Eliza’s getting  there later, she takes a different bus for whatever reason, so it’s just Adrienne, Deb and Marway there. Maria Cosway, one of two Marias, is 5’6” and flips back and forth between coxswaining and bowing. She’s coxswaining today, though, in one of the two light eights going out, and is at the moment topless and halfway into her spandex. Deborah is complaining about her leg hair and Adrienne about her boyfriend, who is a novice boy, a softmore, and an almost-infinite source of teasing material for the other varsity girls.

The open weights are going out in quads today, bless, and Angelica gets to bow. She quickly undresses— she’s wasted enough time getting over here— and is pulling on her sports bra when M walks in. “Ang! How goes it?”

Maria Reynolds is 5’2” and quite possibly, for whatever reason, the loudest and second-bossiest coxswain in the boathouse; she’s also the second Maria, and thus must have a nickname to clarify for people which Maria she is. M is Angelica’s normal coxswain and since Angelica is the stroke they’re on exceptionally good terms.

“It goes, M. It goes.” She pulls her sports bra over her head and then puts an old regatta shirt on over that. “How’s Albany High?” They go to different schools— Angelica managed to score a spot at the uber pretentious King’s High, and M, like most of the other kids there, goes to Albany High. 

“Probably better than King’s.” M snorts, shrugging off her jacket and stepping out of her shoes. “We have a no-homework night tonight.” Deb, who’s been listening, raising her eyebrows.

“See, this is why I don’t trust y’all city chicks,” Deb says, pulling on her jacket. Betsy and Cornelia walk in, Eliza close behind; Angelica shoots her a grin. “Albany High has no homework nights? Oh my god, I’m applying for a transfer.”

“I wish,” Angelica says, shimmying out of her jeans and tossing them on the bench. She actually likes Kings, for the most part, but the homework load is fucking wild. “Like I actually hate how much homework we get. It’s terrible.”

M snorts, halfway into her spandex punching Ang in the shoulder lightly. “Dumbass, you signed up to go there. I mean, I’ve got no fuckin clue why you did, but you obviously did.”

Angelica’s in her spandex now, and she grins and slips on her shoes. “Because I love pain,” she says.

“We all love pain,” says Deb, walking out the door towards the boathouse proper. “The fuck do you think we’re rowing for?” Most of the girls are here now and so M, who’s ready except for her spandex, walks over to the front of the room.

M bangs twice on the metal locker there. The room quiets down. “You guys all read the group chat, I know. So y’all know who’s in my eight. Lightweight Jersey A boat, y’all can finish up getting changed, but will you change over here? I want to get out on the water as fast as possible.”

Betsy is in that boat, as are Adrienne and Dolley, and so they all grab their bags and move over towards M. Angelica sighs and waves her arm. “Yo. Girls in my quad, you don’t have to move, just lemme know when y’all are ready.” She’s bowing, she knows, and they’re in the red quad thank god. She’s with… Martha. At least one, maybe both, as well as Cornelia.

Martha and Hannah walk over, both ready to go. Cornelia is just throwing her shirt on, and within thirty seconds she’s ready.. Hannah grabs the stroke coach and angellica looks arournod. “We all good to go, Ang?” Hannah asks, and Angelica nods, and they all walk out together. 

The red quad is on the dock, so they all have to walk across the bike trail and down to the launching dock. It’s a really solid quad, probably the lightest of the real open weight boats, and it has foot steering, thank god. “Alright, Hannah, Martha, unstrap. And Cornelia, you go down to the stern with Martha.” They have time here, enough time so that she doesn’t have to rush the boat into the water.

“C-hold, everyone, and up an inch in two— one, two, up! Let’s walk it out nice and slow— weigh enough! Hold it right here, and now Martha, go under. Hannah, you too.” It comes easily to her, as it does to most of the regular coxswains and bows, the calls. She looks down the stern of the boat and everyone’s ready, so— “Alright, let’s cant this shell, guts towards the water. Walk it out nice and smooth, just like that, keep on walking, and— weigh enough!” Damn, the novice eight is out today, and so of course they’re being unreasonably slow on the dock, their coxswain setting them down in the direct middle of  the launching space.

“Hey! Novice eight cox!” Angelica yells. “Could you move your boat down a little bit before you launch? We’ve just got a quad that we need to put in and we’ll be real fast on the dock.” The coxswain, who’s 5’2”, tops, and is scribbling in his notebook looks up and nods fast, grabbing one rigger and dragging the boat down until the edge of the dock. Shit, she might’ve scared him. “Thanks a lot!” she says, trying to sound not-sarcastic.

Now, finally, she can get the boat on the water. “Alright, let’s uncant it. Up to shoulders in two— one, two, up!” She heaves the boat up to rest on her own shoulder. “Okay, let’s walk it forward now, and as soon as you’re clear, stern, you can swing towards the water. Yes, just like that. Now walk it back a bit— we clear in the stern?— and let’s sidestep it to the edge. We all good? Okay. Up and over heads in two— one, two, up!” It’s a constant stream of words, getting the boat off the dock. “Roll it in nice and slow, ready, roll. Perfect, just like that. And, down.” 

She takes a breath, gets some water, before walking down with the rest of her boat to grab her oars and kick off her shoes. Now they _do_ have time pressure. But not too much, if her past experiences with novice eights are anything to go by. Angelica leans over the side of the boat, flicks her oarlock open and shut, easy and quick hands on the screws. “We’re adjusting on the water,” she announces, and Hannah snorts.

“Wow, nobody saw that coming,” says Hannah, who’s a hipster theater kid and a writer.

“Shut up. I’m just making sure everyone knows,” says Angelica, who isn’t half as infatuated with Hannah as Marway is, and thus is less willing to put up with her shit then Hannah’s normal cox. “Y’all ready?”

There’s a chorus of ‘yeah’s so Angelica calls them off the dock, “run port oars seats back one foot in weight in and down,” and takes a couple strokes. It’s been a while since she sculled, and she really does enjoy it quite a lot, even though her finish is probably complete shit right now. And bowing— god, she’s missed bowing. “Two seat, join in!” Martha is leaning forward and rowing nice and firmly, and they’ve just got to get off the dock and over to the side of the river before they stop to adjust their foot-stretchers. “Weigh enough! Everyone adjust, lemme know when a pair is ready.”

Her own foot-stretchers are horribly misadjusted, set for a person six inches shorter than her, and so she leans forward and unscrews them, moves them back until she can finish without ramming her hands into her stomach. Hannah calls back to her that stern pair is ready, although Cornelia in 2 seat is still adjusting, so Angelica calls them out. “Alright, stern pair, sit ready for pick drill on the square. Ready— row!” She counts the strokes in her head, calls them from arms to body to half to full slide until they’re rowing nice and smooth and pretty at an 18 on the square, switches to bow pair

They’ve almost reached the start by the time they’ve finished warming up by pairs, so Angelica calls stern pair in and switches everyone to rowing on the feather, taking it underneath the bridge. “In two, weigh enough. One— two. Alright, check it on port. Backcheck, back and row.” The turning dialogue is just as painfully standard as the dialogue for getting off the dock, and so Angelica is thinking a little more about the kayaks who are a hundred yards down the river then she is about turning when they over-rotate.

“Weigh enough!” She looks up and down the boat and they are over rotated. Shit. “Whatever. Anna can deal,” she says, and the rest of the boat laughs. “Bow pair, sit ready to take it across, port press. Ready, row.” She and Cornelia row the boat across managing to pull it mostly straight, before she calls for a weigh enough and for check-on-port-backcheck-back-and-row, practically all in the same breath.

They take it across the river and back to the start, spinning _again,_ before Angelica calls for everyone to weigh enough and get some water. 

“It’s gonna be a sprint-focused day today,” Washington says when everyone is lined up. The eights have pulled up even with Angelica, and the double as well. “We’re just going to take it in bursts of thirty, because we’ve got a really long sprint and I’m not gonna make you do fifty on strokes like four times in a row this early.” Angelica laughs and grins, as do the other girls— it wasn’t funny, but at least Washington is making an effort.

They take it up on the paddle, moving under the bridge towards Redbud. Angelica knows this part of the river easily, and she lets them have thirty strokes of low steady state before calling them up for a power 10 at a 22. “One— hold it steady, just like this. Two, three, four, halfway there girls, keep up the power. Seven. Down in two: one, two, down.”

The girls take it up and down smoothly, because the 18 they’re at right now isn;t that far from a 22. Angelica works them up to a 30 over the thousand-odd meters between the bridge and Redbud, nice and easy, pressing them almost into the island on the last power ten. They spin quickly and Angelica looks to Washington, who calls them up to the tree that marks the starting line.

They get out early today, sun already starting to set, and so Washington is quick to call them forward. Their first piece is just the first twenty strokes of the sprint— ten paddle strokes up into their 30, 32, and then a focus ten and quick ten. “Alright girls, build over 5 in two. One, two— up.” Hannah at the front throws herself up the slide, taking it from somewhere around a twenty to a twenty eight in two strokes. “Hannah, tell me when to hold.”

Hannah calls back a ‘hold!’ almost exactly at the five-stroke marker, so Angelica calls everyone up nice and quickly to the focus ten. “Alright, everyone, get ready for your quick ten, one, two, let’s go.” She looks over her shoulder and rips her blade out of the water, _terrible_ form Angelica, and so she refocuses her gaze on Cornelia’s back, finishing right with her and moving her hands out of the finish quickly. _Seven. Eight—_ “And in two, quick ten, gimme a 33-34. One, two.”

They’re moving fast, quick hands, holding almost even with the eights. “Five strokes till we’re done, okay?” Fast hands, in and out of the finish, fast legs at the catch, they’re really moving. “You’re almost done. One, two, and we’re off, paddle it down, just like that.”

They paddle down a ways, pull even with the eight again, and weigh enough. “Now the second twenty,” Washington says, and Angelica sighs mentally but calls her quad up.

By the time they’re done with the twenties and tens and thirties, they’ve pulled up to the dock, and are pressed to get off the docks _fast_ before the adults try to take any boats out. The off-the-dock dialogue is standard as well, and Angelica rattles it off: “One-foot-out-weight-out-up-and-out, just put your oars on the side of the dock.” They’re all varsity, all have been doing this a while, so they can move nice and quickly. Angelica’s socks and shirt and dripping wet because of the backsplash and the wet dock, so she calls everyone over probably quicker than necessary.

“Up and over heads in two, one two up.” Even her calls are quicker than normal, but at least the red quad goes on the dock. “Walk it forward a bit, call splits and down to shoulders.” They push the boat down to the racks.

They get off the water so late that they’re not on abs, and it’s a quick high _team_ from Marway before Angelica rushes off to the bus. She’s already late on homework, she doesn’t need to get any more behind.

 


End file.
